


Make me a mute

by Sangrylah



Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Charlie is a sweetheart, Charlie is an alien, Kink Exploration, M/M, Matteusz is a human teen, PWP, Porn, Rough Sex, Self-Indulgent, Strength Kink, Tell me if I missed anything, That's it, always use protection people!, and a cockslut, and frustrated, biting kink, both Matteusz and Charlie are underage, but safe sex!, even with an alien, everything is fully consensual, please enjoy these 8K of fully consensual gay filth, slight denial play, slight pain play, space STDs are a nightmare, you never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangrylah/pseuds/Sangrylah
Summary: Matteusz is a frustrated teen with a stupid strong boyfriend, and Charlie is a sweetheart.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivific/gifts).



> Written for and betad by the adorable vivific She asked for Matteusz with a strength kink and a biting kink, and I delivered. If you like it, you'll have to thank her!

 

 

Charlie is careful.

Matteusz is glad, really. He saw his boyfriend stab a screwdriver through the hand of a being with enough force to lodge the screwdriver into tile. (The same being he himself had to hack at repeatedly to cut.) Matteusz is acutely aware of how much stronger and more powerful than he his boyfriend is. Said boyfriend is, after all, an alien.

(Alien _royalty_ nonetheless! Matteusz is dating a prince ~~!~~! But that’s a discussion for another time.)

Charlie is careful when he touches Matteusz, and Matteusz is thankful.

Charlie touches Matteusz softly – his hands apply only carefully-measured pressure on Matteusz’s skin; he kisses trails of wetness down his sides and up his arms with never a hint of teeth; licks Matteusz’s cock as if the mere weight of his tongue will break it; stretches him with infinite patience and enters Matteusz slowly and watchfully.

It’s sweet. Really, it is. Matteusz loves it and him for it. Never has he felt so cherished. And Matteusz likes to be teased by feather-light touches as much as anyone else.

Matteusz is also very frustrated.

Matteusz is human, and inherently weaker than Charlie, but _weaker_ doesn’t mean _weak_.

Matteusz can withstand a bit of rough. Matteusz _wants_ a bit of rough. Matteusz _likes_ a bit of rough.

Charlie is so careful, and Matteusz is grateful, because his boyfriend is an alien with alien strength and Matteusz has breakable human bones.

But sometimes, Matteusz just wants to _get **fucked**_. He wants to be pushed down the bed; he wants Charlie to bite strings of kisses into his collar and Charlie to push into him a bit too fast and a bit too rough because they are just so needy and wanton. He wants to have to _take it_ and when it’s over, he wants to _feel it_. He wants to have bruises; he wants to see the proof of their fervour etched into his skin, the evidence of how he can affect space royalty imprinted into the intimate flesh of his thighs. He wants to feel dirty and spent, used and content, and to kiss Charlie to remind them that they’re not _just_ that.

But Charlie is careful. So. Fucking _. Careful_.

*      *        *

Matteusz decides they need to talk. They talk about a lot of things because Charlie is an alien. But this is a Talk. Matteusz chose to do this in Charlie’s room. They have fond and pleasant memories here; they feel warm and comfortable here. Also, the bed is here.

Charlie sits by his side, all straight and proper, his hands demurely folded in his lap. He stares at Matteusz in this unwavering way he has, waits for Matteusz to talk, and Matteusz, for a long moment, is unable to.

Then he shakes himself. This is Charlie, his boyfriend. The boyfriend who offered support and shelter when his own parents rejected him. His alien boyfriend, who has no idea what a kink is and how they are assessed on Earth.

Plus, Matteusz isn’t really ashamed. His boyfriend is stupid strong. It’s stupid hot. Period.

It’s just that… It might have been easier with a human boyfriend. (Or maybe not; and anyway, it’s pointless to ponder. Matteusz, even unknowingly, fell in love with an alien. A royal alien.)

So… The Talk.

It goes well? Maybe? Matteusz thinks so.

Matteusz clears his throat and begins to talk like other people throw themselves off a bridge: wildly and kind of ‘go big or go home’-y.

Charlie stares at him some more. He opens his mouth. He frowns. He closes his mouth. He frowns harder. He opens his mouth again. Matteusz winces internally. Here we go.

“You wish me to “fuck you like I mean it” and “be mean a little, with little bites and little scratches maybe”?”

Uh. “Yes.”

“Really? Charlie wonders.

“Yes?”

“Oh.”

Pause.

“Why?”

Err. Here comes the hard part ( _he he he_ ). Luckily, Matteusz rehearsed that in front of the mirror after his shower everyday for the last four days.

“You’re a lot stronger than me. Is sexy.”

“Really?” Charlie repeats.

“Yes,” Matteusz answer firmly. “Plus”, he adds coyly, “strength like yours, it would be stupid not use it.”

“A “strength like mine”.”

“Yes.”

“ _A strength like mine_ can break your bones, Matteusz.”

Of course. He anticipated that. Charlie is careful. “Nah. Won’t.”

“How can you know?”

“You love me.”

“I. Yes. I do. I do, but-”

“Is enough. I know.”

“Well _I_ don’t.”

“Only way to know is try.”

Charlie opens his mouth to answer, says nothing, and closes it again. His little alien mind is a highly logical one; Matteusz crafted his reply to that very effect.

“I can’t say that I am agreeing.” Charlie says slowly.

Matteusz waits. He knows Charlie’s not done.

“But.” Pause. Charlie frowns slightly. “ _But_ if you want it-”

Matteusz nods enthusiastically. “I really, really do.”

“-then I’ll consider it.”

Charlie’s voice is neutral and firm, but Matteusz knows he’s won. Charlie is logical, but he’s also curious, and he loves sex. He wants it more than even Matteusz, and Matteusz is a male teenager with a hot and very available boyfriend.

Matteusz only nods graciously. “Thank you.”

Then he wiggles forward towards Charlie and takes one of his (so deceptively strong) hands in his. He links their fingers and gently smiles at him. Charlie loves sex but it’s entirely new to him, and his whole planet population has just been murdered.

“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. I already am really happy with you.”

And then, because he can, he kisses his cute, stupid strong alien boyfriend.

*      *        *

Charlie considers Matteusz’s words.

Matteusz waits for Charlie’s decision.

They have a lot of sex.

*      *        *

Matteusz can see that Charlie is actively thinking of the Talk because Charlie is still very careful, but a tiny bit less than before. Matteusz felt the hint of teeth in the hollow of his throat two days before, and a harder thrust this morning. Charlie musingly watches his limp to the bathroom instead of fretting about how Matteusz was such a delicate thing.

They’re not there yet, but it’s in progress.

*      *        *

First milestone.

Matteusz is panting. This was pretty good sex they just had and he can still feel his skin buzzing, his blood running thick and quick in his veins. He stretches languorously, savours the shiver that runs along his spine, down his quivering, open thighs to his curling toes. Good sex. Good stretch.

Two fingers poking curiously at his hole. He opens his mouth to ask ‘What’s happening down there, Charlie?’, and gasps instead, because the fingers got more curious and adventurous and are now inside. Matteusz feels tender and sensitive, as if Charlie’s fingers could break him if they were too rough, but Charlie is careful, always is, and uses both Matteusz and his fingers mindfully.

Matteusz bends one knee and spread the other leg to offer more room to Charlie. Charlie widens his fingers. Matteusz whines.

“I like the noises you make,” Charlie says casually – and adds in his ring finger a bit too fast.

Matteusz moans and doesn’t bother trying to fight his smile. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect this because he really should have. Of course Charlie would try it a bit before actually acting Matteusz’s fantasy out, and of course he would try it when Matteusz was already sated and pliant, his body stretched and loose, high on pleasure and endorphins. Charlie is careful, even when he isn’t.

Still, Matteusz thinks as Charlie determinedly shoves his fingers back inside, that’s a hell of a first step. 

*      *        *

Second milestone, four days later.

Matteusz has teeth marks on his arms. Because of Charlie.

Not because Charlie made them but because Charlie has the perfect thrust angle memorized and shamelessly uses this knowledge, and Matteusz has been raised with thin walls and parents who don’t much like knowing when their son is beating it. By now it’s a reflex.

Matteusz is being very busy being deliciously fucked and biting into the flesh of his own arm to keep his moans under control when his head is pushed back, none too gently. He has to let go of his arm or risk ripping a chunk of it, and the next thing he knows, Charlie is holding both of his hands in one of his and has them pinned down.

“No.”

It’s only one word, only two letters, but along with the hands possessively pressing his wrists against the sheets? The liquid warmth running through Matteusz’s spine steals any moan he may have produced on its way down.

Charlie is high above him now and driving into him with long, supple, hard rolls of his hips instead of rocking back and forth on his knees. Matteusz’s whole body rocks with the force of Charlie’s thrusts, because Charlie is balanced on his knees and the hand that is _pinning Matteusz’s down_ now, and Matteusz can feel Charlie’s cock slipping almost entirely out of him, only leaving the tip – sweet and soft – in him, threatening to leave him hot and empty, before Charlie slams back home, _hard_ and fast and _perfect_ , once, twice, thrice, his hips forcing Matteusz’s legs to open further, and Matteusz can feel Charlie’s weight and strength press him into the mattress _every single time_ and it’s so, so good; it’s great, it’s perfect, it’s– ah!

Later, well-fucked, Matteusz dozes happily; he feels a hand move his thigh to the side and two fingers pushing in softly. Always so careful, he thinks, and doesn’t comment, because that was a _very_ good fuck and the afterglow hasn’t dissipated yet.

*      *        *

Then it stops.

In Charlie’s defence, they have three aliens coming through in quick succession. They do a lot of running, a lot of panicking, and a bit of world-saving. Or London-saving. Matteusz doesn’t pretend to be a hero. He’s just trying to stay alive, and no one else will take the job if they don’t, so they kind of have to do it themselves. Thank you, Doctor. Awesome prom gift, that.

So they run, and they cry a bit, and they bleed, and they hurt, and they live another day.

They get home at night. They go to bed and sleep like puppies, close to each other, arms and legs entangled. They wake up aching and lost, faded terror thick in their blood and deep in their minds, and Charlie is very careful then, more than ever. Matteusz is too, because there just has been a lot of violence and hardness and they need soft. They need gentle hands on their skin and tender kisses rained down their bodies and slow rocks of their hips. They make their bodies as soft and welcoming as they can, slide into each other so sweetly, rock together, silent except for their panting breathes.

In these moments, Matteusz can only ever be grateful for Charlie’s care.

*      *        *

Third milestone.

They’re in bed – because when are they not? Charlie is insatiable.

Charlie asked Matteusz to lay spread-eagle on the bed and Matteusz happily complied, rolling on his back in his best enactment of a starfish and closed his eyes.

Charlie started with a hand on his shoulder, then up his throat, his jaw, his cheek, and kissing. Matteusz loves kissing.

They’ve been at it for what feels like hours now and Matteusz is a sweating, writhing mess.

Charlie has three fingers deep in him and is teasing him mercilessly. He also has his teeth embedded in the flesh of Matteusz’s hip and Matteusz, in the past... he doesn’t know how long, has discovered his biting kink. God, has he discovered it. Charlie adorned his body with a plethora of small, vibrant dots of pain and ache. They pulse mutedly and when the ache lessens, Charlie is right there, worrying the tender skin with his teeth again to revive the pain.

His lewd, shameless position; the _squelching_ sound of the lube on Charlie’s moving fingers; the dull pain his teeth left under Matteusz’s skin and the pleasure surging in him like punches to the guts... It’s all so perfect Matteusz never wants it to end.

He moans and writhes as spikes of pleasure and twinges of pain and Charlie’s fingers spear him.

*      *        *

But mostly, life is fine.

They go to school, they suffer through English and French and math and go home. Charlie is very studious; Matteusz is… less so.

Sometimes they go for ice cream or little treats, because Charlie is still discovering human food and the cafeteria lunches aren’t the best introduction. Matteusz takes him to the traditional English fish and chips joints and the best Polish delicacy stands and they sample everything in between. It’s like dates, but funnier. Matteusz has a lot of fun with Charlie – and not only during sexy times. Even the alien invasions are fun. (Not all of them involve running and screaming. Most of the aliens are just lost, like the coach’s tattoo, and want nothing more than to leave. The big, translucent pink tentacle-y plant-thing had been fun! And tickly.)

They’re back from one of these dates and Matteusz is laughing; Charlie is smiling his fond ‘You are a weird, cute human thing and I love you’ smile and watching him with soft eyes.

Matteusz loves these eyes and this smile, especially when they were of his doing.

Charlie sidesteps him to get to the door first and proceeds to unlock it. Mrs Quill never locks it, on the (fairly true) assumption that she is nastier and scarier than anything that could enter unauthorized, but Matteusz is human and Charlie tries to be, so they lock the door.

It’s so cute Matteusz want to squish his boyfriend against him, so he does. He seizes Charlie’s shoulders, forcibly turns him around and pushes him back against the wall to snog him. The fact that his far stronger alien boyfriend allows him to manhandle him this way makes him all warm all over, and not in the fuzzy way (not only, at least). He mock-bites Charlie’s lips one last time and smiles at him before slipping inside. Charlie watches him leave with dark eyes, stunned and silent.

Matteusz, truthfully, is pretty proud of himself on this one.

He’s put down his second shoe, still internally gloating, when the door closes with a loud clatter. At the same time, an arm grabs his waist and throws him against the nearest wall. A warm, heavy weight keeps him there, and Charlie’s mouth attaches itself to his neck. He feels lips and tongue and _teeth_ , and shivers.

“Ch- Wha–?”

Charlie roughly pins his hips to the wall in reprimand. “I never said you could talk.”

Matteusz’s mouth opens in shock.

“You wanted rough, didn’t you?” Charlie growls in his ear. Matteusz’s knees buckle. “You wanted me to pin you to the wall, rip off your clothes and fuck you, bite you and scratch you, right?”

Matteusz swallows and nods dumbly.

“What did you think,” Charlie articulate very precisely, “would happen after that little display outside?”

Oh. _Oh_. “I… I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did.” Charlie whispers, rough and gruff, and then he pinches his human’s earlobe between his teeth and pulls.

It’s not much. It’s an earlobe and it doesn’t even really hurt. But it’s something they never talked about, something that does not bring pleasure but discomfort to Matteusz; it’s new and the tiniest bit of pain and Charlie being forceful and aggressively _using his **teeth**_. Matteusz melts against the wall and whines. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Since he doesn’t have to pin him to the wall anymore, Charlie slides his hands under Matteusz’s shirt, and leaves warm lines of discomfort all the way up his chest with his nails. He loops his arms over Matteusz’s and uses them to bend him backwards, seemingly uncaring about Matteusz’s discomfort as he kisses and bites the human’s neck. Matteusz raises his hands and puts them against the wall to push against it and ease the strain of his position.

“Cha–”

“If you don’t stop talking,” Charlie cuts smoothly, unruffled, “you won’t get come.

Matteusz’s mouth falls open. He never thought about that but oh! No getting to orgasm? Charlie fucking him, uncaring of Matteusz’s pleasure? That’s sexy. That’s _appealing_. That’s… wow!

But not today. Today, Matteusz’s wants to come because his boyfriend pinned him to the wall and fucked him like a jackhammer.

He shakes his head, and whines “I’ll be good, promise, please let me come Charlie, I’ll be so good.”

Just begging to be _allowed_ to come makes him dizzy with want and arousal, but it’s nothing compared to when Charlie casually says “You’re still _talking_ ” in this dismissive, disinterested voice. His knees buckle and only Charlie’s grip on his shoulder keeps him upright.

Charlie uses his sudden limpness to grab his chin and kiss him. It’s nothing like any kiss they share. Mostly because this is not a _shared kiss_. It’s an assertion of dominance.

Charlie bites Matteusz’s lips and pulls on them with his teeth until they’re sensitive and aching, and then he delves into his mouth. Matteusz is too dazed to respond decently, but Charlie doesn’t wait anyway. It’s not a kiss, it’s a plundering.

Matteusz is left panting and lightheaded. He went from 0 to 600 in less than a second. His heart beats like a massive hummingbird in his ribcage, his mouth feels wet and his throat raw. As if reading his thoughts, Charlie drags a single index down the length of his throat, slow and purposeful, and hums thoughtfully.

Oh. Matteusz swallows convulsively and zeroesin on the sensation. It’s just a finger but it feels loaded with signification. Will he…? They’ve never talked about that before either, but Charlie is doing a lot of new things today and Matteusz is 157% on board. And it always looked so good in porn... Matteusz swallows and feels his throat move. So… will he? He raises his eyes and looks at Charlie. Charlie stares back. Matteusz licks his lips and opens his mouth but Charlie quirks an eyebrow and Matteusz closes it back again.

Not allowed to talk. Not allowed to come. Not allowed to… beg. And, given how he is pinned and held against Charlie, not allowed to move either.

For a second, arousal and nervousness war inside Matteusz. He wanted this, but it’s still incredibly intimidating. Not being allowed to move, to talk, knowing that Charlie is using all of his strength and that Matteusz could never hope to defend himself against him… It’s a bit scary.

And stupid hot. Because it’s Charlie, and Charlie is always so careful, even when he isn’t.

Matteusz was pushed against the wall and nothing hurts except his lips, deliciously aching. Charlie is being forceful, because Matteusz asked, but still watchful, because he is Charlie. And because he loves Matteusz.

How silly. Matteusz himself reassured Charlie about this very thing when they had the Talk. Charlie won’t hurt him.

Not unless Matteusz asks him to, a little voice whispers. And maybe not even then.

“Matteusz? Are you okay?”

Matteusz starts slightly. Charlie has put a hand on his cheek, and is looking at him worriedly. Terribly, Matteusz realizes that if he doesn’t reassure Charlie at once, he’ll never be touched like that ever again. He won’t be jumped as soon as the door is closed and bitten until it _stings_ and forbidden to talk or to come ever again.

But still. Matteusz isn’t allowed to talk. So he smiles. He smiles and bites his lips and looks at Charlie with the sultriest and coyest expression he can muster.

Charlie lets him go. That’s not the reaction Matteusz expected and he has to scramble to stay upright; by the time he’s ready to turn around and clear the misunderstanding, Charlie is talking.

“Undress.”

His voice is hard and flat and disinterested and Matteusz’s hard cock twitches. Yes. They’re back on track, and Matteusz has to undress for his boyfriend. He can do that.

“You have ten seconds.”

But can he do it that quickly? Then again… what happens if he doesn’t? Will he be punished? How? They never discussed this; he didn’t even know that was the direction this would be going. Would Charlie hit him? Would he be forbidden to come? He moans at the thought, but resist the temptation. He wants to come today. He wants to be allowed to come as Charlie pounds into him – because it looks like it’s heading to a right _pounding_ –, as Matteusz feels his cock drag in and out of his body, tickling at his rim, and then he wants Charlie to keep going because he hasn’t come yet and Charlie’s pleasure is the one that matters here. Not Matteusz’s. Not this time.

He’s sweating and breathing heavily and frantic with desire; his cock hard enough to hammer nails, but he’s also entirely nude (luckily, he took his shoes off before Charlie tackled him) and Charlie has put a warm hand on his back.

Matteusz waits. He tries to breathe, to cool down. He’s already so worked up, and Charlie isn’t even fucking him. He needs to level off or he’ll come as soon as Charlie gets his dick in him. The mere thought makes him moan. God, Charlie’s dick… he wants it so much!

“Turn.”

Matteusz swallows and turns. His cock bounces up and down with his steps.  He faces Charlie, standing a few feet away from him.

Charlie is entirely clothed. Matteusz doesn’t know why it feels important, but it does. Charlie is entirely clothed, his shirt neatly tucked inside his jeans, and Matteusz is naked. Not just nude – _naked_. And hard as steel.

Charlie’s face is mostly blank. Not hard nor cold, but inexpressive. His gaze racks up and down Matteusz’s body and stops very obviously on his erection. Incongruously, Matteusz flushes. He feels embarrassed, exposed, appraised like some sort of market stock. He looks down demurely and fidgets, fights against the temptation to cover himself with his hands. He is even more embarrassed when he sees than his cock has not softened one bit.

“Stop that.”

Matteusz freezes.

“Spread.”

Spread _what_?

“Spread your legs,” Charlie clarifies, speaking slowly, carefully. The way you would to a slow child.

Something is burning low in Matteusz’s stomach as he widens his feet. His mouth is parched and his throat dry as the Sahara, he’s so turned on. He can feel sweat gather in the curvature of his back, in the hollow of his throat. His arousal pearls at the end of his cock.

Charlie walks up to him. Matteusz licks his lips and watches his boyfriend’s feet getting closer. Charlie still has his _shoes_ and Matteusz is only wearing his skin.

Charlie touches him. It’s like a jolt of electricity coursing through his whole body. Charlie put his left hand between Matteusz’s collarbones and shoves. Matteusz falls back against the wall and when he opens his mouth to huff in surprise, fingers are shoved inside. Matteusz chokes, surprised. Charlie has surprisingly long and forceful fingers; they delve into his mouth and push his head back until his crane touches the wall and then rest on the velvet cushion of his tongue.

“Suck.”

His mouth instantly waters. Oh my. Yes. Matteusz is so on board. Maybe, if he does a good job, Charlie will actually do what his finger on Matteusz’s throat implied. Matteusz wouldn’t say no to that. (Matteusz wouldn’t say no to anything, he’s not allowed to talk. He he.)

Matteusz obediently sucks. His eyes automatically partially close and he stares at Charlie from under his lashes. He tries to be seductive and smooth, but he feels hot and sweaty and knows he must look a mess. A sexual mess, with some luck. In any case, Charlie doesn’t react noticeably. His eyes pass Matteusz shiny, sucking lips and continue downward.

Charlie seizes Mateusz’s erection. Matteusz moans around Charlie’s fingers and splays the fingers of both his hands against the wall. God, yes. Charlie’s hand feels so good. It’s smooth like new skin and big and warm. More importantly, it’s strong. It wraps around him just this side on too much. Matteusz’s entire being is vibrating and focused on his cock, and Charlie’s hand, and his cock in Charlie’s hands. He stops sucking.

In the next breath, Charlie takes his hands away and pushes his fingers deeper into Matteusz’s mouth. He gags, more because of an instinctive bodily reflex than because he needs too. The fingers are indeed too far inside his mouth; the tip of the index is tickling the back of his tongue, and an alarm rings in his head – careful! More and you’ll choke! More and you’ll gag! – but it doesn’t hurt one iota.

It’s uncomfortable and Matteusz drools – literally – at the thought that this is Charlie punishing him. He stopped sucking so Charlie made it harder for him to enjoy doing it. It doesn’t feel _good_ – but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just this side of callous; it’s exactly what he wanted. Matteusz would feel sorry if Charlie’s hand hadn’t felt so _fucking good_ and if he wasn’t enjoying the tickling, promising threat of _more_ as much as he was.

And if Charlie had stopped touching him, too. Which isn’t the case. Oh, he’s not touching his cock anymore, but Matteusz can follow the journey of his hand across his body to the last centimetre. His chest, his belly, his arse, his back, his arm...

The touch is gentle and unhurried but impersonal and feels nothing like a caress. Matteusz should feel embarrassed to be petted and explored like a newly bought animal, and he is, but he also feels… Praised. Loved. Worshipped. Charlie is touching him everywhere and leaving only goose bumps in his path, and Matteusz loves it.

He also recognizes the touching and the petting for what it is: a check-up. Matteusz froze and Charlie is worried. Charlie is always careful, even when he isn’t. They are still playing because Matteusz said it was all good, which is why he’s naked and greedily blowing Charlie’s fingers like he would his cock, but Charlie is _stubbornly_ careful, especially when Matteusz is concerned. Matteusz doesn’t mind. His boyfriend’s stupid strength is only stupid because he knows how careful Charlie is.

Matteusz just has to wait, and to do his best to entice said boyfriend into doing what this poor, lonely finger on his throat hinted at. So that’s what he does. He sucks and licks and twists his tongue into shapes to press the soft cushion of it against Charlie’s fingers.

Matteusz doesn’t know how much time passes but he immediately knows when Charlie is done with his examination– and that he is satisfied with what he has found – because the alien slowly drags his fingers out of Matteusz’s mouth. He would prefer if they stayed, so he sucks on them until the very end, so that they leave his mouth with a humid _pop!_ Satisfied, Matteusz leans back against the wall and smiles slightly.

His doesn’t have much time to pat himself on the back because Charlie presses a rough jean-clad thigh against his neglected cock and kisses him at the same time. Matteusz moans, gasps, arches and gags at the same time and actually only jerks against the wall. Charlie gently bites his lips and teases them with his tongue and Matteusz wraps his arms around the alien’s neck as if that could make him kiss him properly. (Hint: It doesn’t.)

The tips of Charlie’s fingers flutter along the sensitive skin of Matteusz’s sides as they go down, down, down. They trace the curve of his waist, tickle the junction of his legs, and then Charlie boldly grabs his thighs and picks him up.

Matteusz shrieks – _manly_. And then he moans deep and slow because his tiny boyfriend just _picked him up off the floor_. That’s so sexy! Matteusz wraps his legs around Charlie’s back and crosses his ankles on the swell of his arse. The coarse jeans brushing against his cock and the inside of his spread-open thighs feels _great_. Matteusz wants to rub himself against Charlie, wants to rub the denim all over himself – but most especially his face, his thighs, his dick. Matteusz is discovering a lot of new things about him right now.

He can feel Charlie’s erection through the cloth and wants to rub himself all over that too. Why is Charlie still clothed? Why didn’t he at least get his cock out? Being the only naked person in this fuck makes him hot and needy but he wishes he could at least see Charlie’s dick. It’s a very good dick. Matteusz likes it very much.

Charlie cuts in with his teeth and his tongue: he tilts his head up, and since Matteusz is an aroused slumped in his arms, that’s all he needs to kiss the human. It’s not sweet, not like their usual kisses, but it’s not as cold as the first one; it’s the perfect blend of the two. He feels cared for and used at the same time, just as he wanted. Matteusz moans in Charlie’s mouth and melts.

They are furiously kissing now, Matteusz bent over Charlie and isn’t this an odd situation? Taller – and higher – though he is, the only one butt naked and manhandle is him.

Matteusz is so busy being turned on and kissed – their first kisses since the beginning of this thing – that he barely notices Charlie situating him against the wall, sandwiched between two hard places. Charlie keeps an arm under Matteusz’s thighs to support his weigh, and Matteusz is only just wondering where the second one went when two cold, wet fingers push inside him without warning.

It’s abrupt and Matteusz whines into Charlie’s mouth and squeezes him tighter. This is a lot. He isn’t stretched at all, that’s two fingers going in at once and they’re only wetted with, he realizes, his spit. He tries to breathe and relax. He can feel his muscle being shoved aside by these two strong, can feel every knuckle as it stretches his rim and bury itself inside his intimate, tender flesh. It’s a lot. It may be a tad too much.

He pants wetly in Charlie’s hair. He’s shaking and sweating, making weird, cut-off noises, and Charlie isn’t saying anything, because his mouth is busy kissing and licking the taut lines of the human’s throat.

Charlie isn’t being brutal. He’s goes slow and doesn’t force Matteusz’s body, but he is also _relentless_. Matteusz has no choice but open up for him, for his fingers, his _cock_. Charlie is going to fuck him – this is _prep_ ; Charlie is _not_ stopping until his fingers are all the way in – or Matteusz talks.

And Matteusz isn’t going to say anything. He’s wanted this. He wanted rough and passionate and _fucking_ , and he will _have it_. It is, admittedly, a bit scary, because his body is protesting and his thighs are quivering but _Charlie is being so fucking careful_. It doesn’t even hurt, and Matteusz likes a bit of rough.

Plus, his legs are wide open around his boyfriend’s clothed hips, his hair are plastered to his forehead, he’s shaking and sweating, his skin is tingling with arousal and he can’t seem to stop salivating – his body is _hungry_ , as hungry as Matteusz himself, and it in the end, it swallows Charlie’s fingers without pain.

Charlie _hmmms_ softly, the sound hushed against Matteusz’s throat, and lays a sweet, closed-mouth kiss on his heated skin. It feels like praise, like love, and Matteusz laughs. Surely this isn’t talking, right? It’s laughing. Surely Matteusz is allowed to laugh, to express his joy and delight in what they are doing together.

Charlie rocks his hand back and forth a few times, hard and achingly slow. Matteusz curls himself around his shoulders and kiss and lick them in tandem to distract himself from the nasty _ache_ he feels every time Charlie’s fingers threaten to leave him empty. His body has been forced open and demands to be filled, now; the mere thought of being left, bereft and hard, his hole tender and empty, is... _really hot_. He’s back to thinking about Charlie leaving him hot and bothered after his own orgasm without a single care for Matteusz’ pleasure and the gaping ache between his legs.

He wants to be fucked _so bad_. He moans into Charlie’s ear and starts to roll his hips. Charlie comes to a stop; his fingers firmly rooted in the pink, tender flesh between Matteusz’s legs, and the teen promptly proceeds to fuck himself on those fingers.

He grips Charlie’s shoulder tight and uses his hold to roll his hips and bounce up and down on his boyfriend’s index and major. It takes him only three or four rolls to get the angle right; if he cants his hips _just so_ , the tip of Charlie’s index grazes his sweet spot. In next to no time, Matteusz is riding these deliciously inflexible digits with all his might, happily bouncing up and down on Charlie’s fingers. Spit doesn’t do much to lubricate and it is a little uncomfortable but it only heightens the brief explosions of pleasure lighting fireworks up his nervous system.

Once again, the human is amazed by his boyfriend’s sturdiness: Matteusz is vigorously fucking himself on his fingers and neither Charlie nor his arm moves the slightest bit.

Soon enough, however, Matteusz is whining and twitching. This is glorious – but not enough. It’s not the _real thing_. Matteusz wants to be _fucked_ , by a hard _dick_ – preferably Charlie’s, please, please, _please_ , pretty please with an orgasm on top, oh _please_ , _Charlie, **please!**_

Charlie withdraws his fingers. Matteusz cries out mindlessly, suddenly feeling bereft. He also claws at Charlie’s shoulder and tries to stop shaking, because his whole body seems intent on being _filled_ and _stuffed_ and **_fucked_**. And _isn’t_ , right now.

He tries to bring his cock in contact with Charlie’s, still trapped in the confines of his oh so rough jeans, but Charlie halts him. In retaliation, Matteusz bites him. He can’t talk but he still can express his irritation. Charlie only laughs and kisses the slope of his shoulder. Asshole.

But then Charlie pushes Matteusz away. Away and away until Matteusz’s is just a long curve of flushed skin and laboured breathing stretched from the wall to Charlie’s hips, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, and when he has settled as comfortably as he can, Charlie uses his fingers – those very same fingers that were buried knuckles-deep inside Matteusz just a moment ago, their mere sight makes Matteusz’s entrance flutter and ache from the _emptiness_ – to seize that fleshy, sensitive part of the body where the ass becomes the thigh and pull it sideway to expose Matteusz’s entrance.

And then he just stares at it. Matteusz swallows. Oh. Charlie is _staring_. He flushes brightly. This is... not done. This is private and taboo and Charlie will see how riding him so enthusiastically has reddened his flesh and how loose he is from Charlie’s fingers and maybe even the shine of Matteusz’s own spit. His heart is beating madly and his stomach feels warm and heavy. It feels so _obscene_ , being stared at like that, being stared at _there_. Obscene and illicit and depraved and Matteusz _loves_ it.

Once again, Charlie hums thoughtfully, his eyes glued to that little, secret place hidden between Matteusz’s legs and Matteusz hides his burning face in the alien’s hair. God. The things Charlie _does_ to him.

He feels a digit poke around too, pressing and assessing and mimicking what Matteusz really wants, _tempting him_ with a bad simulacrum of the real thing, _again_ , and Matteusz whines and wiggles as much as he can. Even a bad simulacrum is better than nothing; better than the emptiness currently gaping between his wide-open legs. He can’t talk but he can _beg_ , and he doesn’t need his tongue to do it.

“Stop that,” admonishes Charlie.

And then, additionally, Charlie _spanks him_.

It’s not that hard a slap, but the mere fact that Charlie _spanked him_ sets off sparkles under Matteusz’s skin, fireworks in his brain and his nerve endings ablaze. Stunned, he bleats a pathetic whimper, quickly followed by a choked-off scream because Charlie hauls his parted leg higher in the crook of his arm and fucks into him in one sharp, brutal thrust.

Matteusz just... locks down. He can feel a _ripple_ shake his whole body as he arches in Charlie’s embrace, mouth gaping, blind eyes wide-open, his entire being greedily latching on Charlie’s dick at once. He is unable to produce any sound, his vocal ability short-circuited by the shock and the pleasure and _unexpectedness_ of it all.

Charlie, however, doesn’t wait for him to vocalize anything. He sets an almost punishing rhythm, rocking back and forth in him, slamming Matteusz’s hips against the wall with every thrust. It burns. It burns and it’s too much – too much too soon too full too _good_ and _exactly_ what he wanted. It’s uncomfortable and too much and Matteusz drools from how perfect it is.

Charlie is proportionate but Matteusz is only perfunctorily stretched and his boyfriend’s cock feels _massive_. The angle is also different and Matteusz can feel his cockhead tug sharply at his sensitive rim with every motion of Charlie’s powerful, alien body. It doesn’t hurt though; they have _very_ regular sex and Charlie has somehow managed to get his cock out, to put on a condom and to slick himself with lube without Matteusz noticing.

A particularly well-aimed thrust hitting his sweet spot dead-on makes the human scream a little, and that seems to jumpstart the rest of his reactive process, because he starts to shiver and moan and groan and whimper. He suddenly can’t stop. A litany of _ah! ah! ah!_ falls from his lips into Charlie’s ear and hair. He sounds like a bad pornstar and couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. It is just. So **_good_**. It feels like he’s been waiting for hours to get fucked, to get a cock – Charlie’s cock – in him.

He still isn’t allowed to talk and beg Charlie to go faster and _harder_ or to tell him how good it is, so fucking _good_ , amazing, excellent, but he can moan and let his pleasure be dragged out of his mouth by Charlie’s amazing, _wonderful_ dick.

His own cock bounces between their bodies, moved by the vigour of Charlie’s thrusts and the rocking motion of Matteusz’s own body. It’s not a gentle friction, instead more of slaps against Charlie’s rock-hard chest and that too, is good. It’s excellent, it’s perfect. It is bursts of _too much!_ spiking through his veins, too much pleasure and a bit of pain too, the stimulation too random to make him come, so he won’t ruin Charlie’s planning.

“You take it so well,” Charlie huffs without slowing down.

He sounds out of breath, but not enough. He sounds just like they’re fucking in their bed and Charlie rocks slow and steady between his legs, not out of breathe like he’s currently drilling him like a fucking machine while standing up in the middle of the entryway.

He is not out of breath because even the effort of supporting all of Matteusz’s weight and fucking him through the wall isn’t taxing enough to tire him. Matteusz’s mind implodes. His boyfriend is fucking him stupid and incoherent and it’s not even the best he can do. A part of Matteusz is dying to know and experience the full thing, but another one is scared or literally dying. This is so good, how could anything be better? Could his heart even handle it? Dying of great sex is a wonderful way to go, but he’d prefer **not** going and keeping having this kind of sex – often and regularly, if possible.

“Look at me,” orders Charlie, and Matteusz does.

Charlie looks _wild_. His eyes are burning, his jaw is clenched, his hair is plastered to his forehead by sweat and his lips curl with animalistic ally intent and his throat taunt and his shoulder clench. Matteusz feels like he’s being fucked by a beast.

The thought makes him moan, makes him whine and want to kiss him and bite him, but positioned as he is, Matteusz can’t do anything but take it like a good boy. And so, he does.

He lets himself be rocked by Charlie fucking his cock deep into his body and uselessly shakes his head every way; he scrambles to find some purchase, anything, on the wall and when none appears, finally resigns himself to clutch at his own limp, sweaty thighs. It’s so, so, **SO** good, and Matteusz feels like he’s on fire, like he’s going to die from pleasure, he’s burning and going to fall apart. Everything feels hazy and surreal – everything except this hard dick pounding into him like a jackhammer and the sound of Charlie regular, short breathes.

All the while, Charlie, surprisingly, _talks_.

Most of it is content fit to be qualified as _dirty talk_ by the adult entertainment industry, but some are just Charlie things.

“You look so beautiful” and “It feels so good, inside you” or “You make the most gorgeous sounds” which prompted Matteusz to whimper pathetically, and also “S’like you were made to be _fucked_ ” that made Matteusz cry out, shaken and shamed or “I want to merge with you all the time”.

Every remark makes something sharp and hot curl low between Matteusz’s hipbones. The comments and the pounding and Charlie’s eyes all make it so Matteusz feels his orgasm building inexorably, even if his dripping cock is swaying useless in the air, wave after wave of pleasure overloading his nervous system, even if his spine begins to ache and his thighs quiver from the strain of his position, bursts of pleasure exploding one after another behind his eyelids, his teeth, between his ribs and his toes and his neurons.

Eventually it goes from _too good, so good_ to _too good –oh god I’m dying_ and Matteusz breaks. He reaches out to Charlie, who takes his hands immediately, and _begs_.

“’m sorr-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” the alien answers, and stops everything. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please, don’t st- _oh yes_ , please, _again_ , just like that, right th-ah!, uh, uh, uh, uh, please Charlie, don’t stop, just-”

“Just what? I’m not stopping, see? It’s so nice in you, I never want to stop.”

“I want to come, please, is so good Charlie, you don’t know how good it is, I can’t, uh, uh, uh, please, Charlie, _please_.”

“Yes, of course, Mat-love. Of course, love. What do you want?”

“Your hand? And a kiss. And can you go hard and fast while you jerk me off?”

“I can.” 

Charlie has to arrange their bodies to be able to kiss him. Matteusz suddenly feels squished between a hard wall and a hard alien, his leg hooked over the alien’s shoulder. The new position stretches a lot of things that were beginning to stiffen and makes him tighter inside; when Charlie gets back to fucking him hard and fast, his cock feels bigger, harder, longer. Matteusz is back to _uh uh uh_ -ing incoherently in less than ten seconds.

“You like that?” Charlie asks against his lips, their lips brushing together with every word.

He’s watching intently, focused, and Matteusz, looking back at him from under his lashes, eyes half-mast, thinks distractedly of chicken hens, whose head never shake even if their bodies move every way.

“Yes”, he whispers. Talking louder seems absurd; loud should be for moaning. “Yes, yes, yes,” he repeats, and he’s not just answering the question.

Charlie must have a map of his arse, because they’re gazing soulfully in each other’s eyes and he’s still hitting Matteusz’s prostate dead-on. Matteusz isn’t aware of his eyes rolling back or of his punched-out _uh, uh, uh, uh_ until Charlie lifts a hand to bring his head back towards him. Matteusz kisses him back blindly, shaken by waves upon waves of pleasure and spikes of ecstasy. Their teeth clash and their noses bump, Matteusz is such a mess, and Charlie finally takes pity of him.

He loops a hand behind Matteusz to hug him close to his body and wraps his second hand around the teen’s cock. It’s so wet with pre-cum that no lube is necessary and Charlie proceeds to gently pull him off with slow, long upwards drags of his hand without delay. Matteusz gasps into his mouth and bites his lips, whining low at the back of his throat. He starts shaking all over.

“Shhh, shhh,” Charlie soothes between kisses. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

Matteusz does. But then Charlie brushes a heavy thumb on his fraenulum and he also whimpers, and comes. His orgasm is silent and devastating; he comes for what feels like minutes, hours, and when it’s over, he slumps in his alien’s arms, feeling light and unsubstantial.

Charlie keeps him close, kisses his heavy eyelids and his flushed cheek, swipes soft, warm hands down his back and across his belly and chest, calls his name and wait for an answer.

When Matteusz’s brain comes back online, he smiles.

“Charlie,” he says, or tries to say. His tongue feels too heavy, his jaw too bulky, his lips numb from the hundred kisses that rained upon it. His eyes are closed and opening them seems too much of an effort.

“Welcome back.”

“Hi,” Matteusz says, dopily. His head rests on Charlie’s shoulder; he turns his head and buries his nose in his collar. They just spectacularly fucked and Charlie still only smells of detergent, city life and cologne. No hint of sweat, no wetness either. Matteusz, for his part, smells like a brothel and feels like one too. He is still turned on enough that it’s arousing instead of humiliating.

“How are you feeling?” his boyfriend’s voice asks.

Matteusz opens his mouth to answer and then stops, because truthfully, he feels… complicated. He feels dirty and used and humbled and loved and brittle and sore and sexual and mighty and tender and worshipped. His nerve endings still buzz with rapture and his muscles don’t work. He doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow and doesn’t want to do his math homework. He’s thirsty and sweaty and disgusting and proud.

Mostly he’s tired and spent and getting cold. He wants to be fretted over and snuggled.

He feels, at heart, _amazing_.

He smiles tiredly into Charlie’s shirt.

“Good.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? That was intense.”

Matteusz noses distractedly at Charlie’s collar and hums. “Very intense,” he agrees. Charlie holds him up with one hand only and caresses his hair.

“Hmm. That was. Unanticipated.”                   

“Good?” the sleepy human asks.

Silence. Charlie’s hands strokes broad, warm arcs on his cooling back.

“ _Very_ good. Yes,” Charlie answers finally, decisively.

Matteusz smiles internally. They’ll do that again. Not tomorrow and not even next week because Matteusz feels tender and fragile, but soon. The first times are always the hardest. They’ll get better.

Matteusz is going to die. Of pleasure. Hmmm, what a way to go!

“See? I’m always right.”

 

_Hold me up against the wall_  
_Give it till I beg_  
_Give me some more_  
_Make me bleed I like it rough_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it folks! If you liked it, stay tuned for more filth! It's NaNo and I'm feeling self-indulgent for this one.


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